Up In The Air, Junior Birdmen. . .

Thirty-six years ago today I checked into my last duty station, NAS Lemoore. I had finished AC "B" School in Glynco, GA, taken a couple of weeks leave at my parents' home in Tyler, TX, and headed out to California with my 240Z packed to the gills. I spent over 3 1/2 years at Lemoore, got married, got a dog, learned to fly, switched from being a "Scope Dope" to a "Tower Flower", and finally decided to leave the Navy and take another shot at the FAA. It turned out to be a great tour of duty. I've often wondered how things would have been different had I stayed in the Navy. All I know for sure is the truth of the Navy's recruiting slogan: It's not just a job, it's an adventure.

En route to Lemoore and seriously tired of I-40, I took a detour to the north to check out the Grand Canyon. Both of these pictures are from the south rim of the canyon. I've always liked them because, if for no other reason, they represent that 155 mile detour and a little respite from the highway. I don't think I noticed until I scanned these pictures that you can actually see the Colorado River in the shot below.

I started out in the Radar Air Traffic Control Center (RATCC), but before long the division managers decided that perhaps the tower watch bill needed a few more senior petty officers - the "kids" were having way too much fun up there in the birdcage. When they asked for volunteers, I was ready to try something new and pleased to go.

Sometime in the mid-70s the Air Force and Navy had a fly-off between the General Dynamics F-16 and the Northrop YF-17, both designs of low-cost, agile fighters to supplement the more expensive Grumman F-14 Tomcat of the Navy and the McDonnell Douglas F-15 Eagle of the Air Force. As it turned out, both designs won. The Air Force chose the F-16 Fighting Falcon and the Navy chose the YF-17 Cobra. But to make it more interesting, they'd have McDonnell Douglas build it as the F-18 Hornet. Figuring out just exactly what happened there is high on my "to do" list.

In any case, when the Navy chose the Northrop design, they flew one of the two prototypes to Lemoore put on a flight demonstration for the A-7 Corsair II squadrons which would eventually transition to F-18s. I took both of these pictures from the tower. Above, the plane is in a roll, midfield, over 35L. Below, the plane is parked on the quarterdeck in front of the Ops building. Note the cobra insignia on the nose, and the explanation on the tail that this is the A-18 prototype.

When we wanted to escape the San Joaquin Valley, we'd usually drive up to the Sierra Nevada mountains to play (Sequoia, Kings Canyon, Yosemite, or Lake Tahoe). If we wanted more metropolitan entertainment, we'd drive the 200 miles to San Francisco. The picture above of San Francisco was taken from Golden Gate Park on the Sausalito (north) side of the bridge.

When I left Kingsville in 1969 I had decided after one flight with another controller in a Cessna that I wanted to learn how to fly. As soon as I decided that I was transferred to Adak, where there was no opportunity. During the 15 months I was loading freight for Thurston Motor Lines or insulating air-conditioners for General Electric there was absolutely no opportunity. When I went back in the Navy in '72 I was aboard ship and, while there were plenty of planes, they were stingy about letting just anybody fly them.

So, shortly after I arrived in Lemoore, I realized that the base aero club was just what I had been waiting for. One of my fellow controllers, Steve Hayes,  had just gotten his instructor's license reinstated and would be glad to teach me. The picture above, taken from Steve's Tri-Pacer, shows a portion of Lake Oroville, 75 miles north of Sacramento in the Sierra foothills. We'd gone up there one weekend to visit his parents.

Back at Lemoore, we started my lessons. I soloed after 6 1/2 hours in a Cessna 150. After building up flight time in the 150s, a new Cessna 152, and a couple of Piper Cherokees, I got my pilot's license. One afternoon approaching the field I keyed the mike to report inbound and my passenger, Dallas, barked. The tower was surprised, I suspect, but when I tried again my coworkers put it together quickly enough. "Who have you got up there, Parker? Dallas?" "Affirmative, Tower. Dallas the Flying Dog." Dallas flew with me regularly and, after that, when I checked in the tower never failed to ask whether Dallas the Flying Dog was aboard. The picture above is of Dallas and me on the patio about the time I started flying.

One Fourth of July Alan at Angela Scott, Sally and I - and, of course, Dallas the Flying Dog - took Cherokee 5144S to the coast for a picnic on the beach. The charts suggested that Oceano airport, just across the Pacific Coast Highway from Pismo Beach, would be convenient. Unfortunately, we didn't anticipate the blowing sand kicked up by the dune buggies. No problema. We carried the blankets and coolers back across the highway, climbed back into the plane, and flew to Kern Valley Airport on the north end of Lake Isabella in the foothills northeast of Bakersfield. The picture above is looking upstream from our picnic site on the east bank of the Kern River.

Of all the planes in the aero club stable, the two T-34B Mentors were the most advanced and the most fun to fly. I found this picture of Beech 1410Z ready to go on the aero club ramp, but I don't recall taking the picture.